


Table Stakes

by Rinzler



Series: Retellings [6]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinzler/pseuds/Rinzler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of Season 1, Episode 15 from Greg's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Table Stakes

It’s been a long day, between the Sheriff badgering him and having to deal with both day shift and swing shift’s backlogged evidence, which is why Greg has been keeping an eye on everyone who passes by the lab. Watch a brewing storm carefully, and you may intercept before it has the chance to throw lightning, as Papa Olaf used to say. Or something like that, about cutting off possible disasters in the making.

It’s also been three days since he’s last seen Nick, which is another reason he's looking up every time he hears footsteps. Sara or Catherine or Warrick have been dropping off the evidence for cases they’re working with the Level 3 CSI, leaving Greg without his daily dose of hot studly Texan. (He could go to Bobby, but the accent just isn’t the same, and besides, Bobby’s blond. Greg doesn’t really go for blondes.)

He’s taken to crossing his fingers every morning before Grissom hand out cases. It’s sort of pathetic, but it’s not like anyone is going to figure out why he’s crossing his fingers, so as far as Greg’s concerned he’s safe. For now. He glances up again from the saliva sample he’s processing when more foosteps sound and catches a glimpse of brown hair. Is that- nope. It’s Sara. He glances down again and- wait.

Greg jerks his head up and down again in a double-take and shoves the saliva sample to the side, rolling his chair over to his CD player and hitting the ‘play’ button just as the door to his lab swings open. He twirls around in his chair, barely restraining a grin. He’d know that jawline and clean-cut look anywhere, even trailing behind Sara like a little lost puppy, and launches into an impromptu air-drum solo in his chair to celebrate just as Nick’s voice drifts from behind him.

“What up, G?”

Greg spins to face them. Sara is leaning on his workstation, the shadows under her eyes so dark she’d get charged for extra baggage at the airport, looking worn-down and like she’s about to start spitting cutting insults left and right. On her right is Nick, who looks the exact opposite. He’s beaming brighter than a ray of sunshine, grin across his face as big as Texas, showing off his perfect dimples and straight white smile.

“You’re awake, I hate you,” Sara says, deadpan, and on any other day that would have hurt just the littlest bit, but with Nick barely three feet away looking like God’s gift to this green Earth, Greg’s going to let it slide. Instead of bantering back and forth, he just smiles at her.

“Uh, a couple glasses of Merlot, rack of lamb on my day off, I slept like a baby yesterday,” Greg says, waving his hands around and wiggling his shoulders little for emphasis. He glances at Nick, who looks at once deeply suspicious of Greg’s pronouncement and like he’s trying not to laugh. Greg looks back at Sara. “You look horrible.” He doesn’t stop grinning.

“Thanks, Greg,” Sara replies, staring at him with an expression that reads quite clearly _I know that and you know that but you’re not supposed to comment on it, oh well, now I guess I have to find somewhere to hide your body, what a pity._

 Greg winks at her and returns to staring at Nick, raising his eyebrows as if to convey _you too?_

“Don’t look at me, I got sunshine all night,”  Nick comments idly, pointing at himself and then dropping his hand, turning to stare at Sara. He’s wearing a bulky grey sweater that looks almost light blue in this light and is draped loosely over his figure. It’s strangely adorable, considering how muscled he is.

(Not that Greg would know or anything.

Okay, he does, but that’s besides the point.)

Anyways, paired with the dimpled smile he’s currently aiming at a very much not-amused Sara, it makes Greg want to cuddle right up to him. Not that he’s going to. There are some lines you just don’t cross with co-workers, no matter how handsome they are or how soft their hair looks.

Seriously though, what kind of conditioner does Nick use? He needs to know, so he can stop picking up random bottles in the supermarket aisle and sniffing them in the hopes of finding the right one.

“Check for DNA in the sexual assault kit and the fingernail, please,” Nick says, suddenly all business but still sugary sweet, handing the packet across the divider to Greg. It’s the accent. Anything sounds sweet in that accent.

“Everything has to be in CODIS asap,” Sara adds, her words sounding sluggish as she gestures with her sunglasses at the evidence.

“Oh, is that all?” Greg says, feeling a tiny bit of sarcasm slip into his voice. Like he doesn’t know this procedure back to front and upside down. He practically wrote the rule book on processing sexual assault DNA samples when he came to Vegas a couple of years ago to replace the current (and extremely inept) technician.  “I wanna know who’s gonna authorize my overtime?”

Sara stares him dead in the eyes and tilts her head a little to the left, lifting her eyebrows. “Suck it up, Greg,” she says in a tone of voice that very much means _you will or they won’t find the body_. “You’re well rested.” She stands up from where she’s leaning on the ledge around his desk and flounces out of the lab.

Greg watches her go and turns to look at Nick, who’s smiling at him. Only it’s one of his closed-mouth smiles, half a smirk, like he can’t believe Greg’s that much of an idiot for poking a sleeping dragon or something like that.

It was a totally valid question, though, considering his overtime is almost maxed out (not counting the six times Grissom ‘forgot’ to sign his sheet and Greg was stuck working hours late until he was practically pulling a double without getting paid).

“You want a Valium for her?” Greg asks Nick, trying not to sound offended and failing. It’s not like any of the other CSIs haven’t had problems with overtime. Grissom has an unparalleled ability to forget any paperwork that isn’t immediately relevant and somehow never get in trouble when things are late or incomplete. Greg envies him. It’s probably the whole Obi-Wan Jedi-master freakishly calm zen vibe he’s got going on.

Nick just shakes his head, staring at Greg  with an expression that’s part way between annoyance and fondness. Then he looks away, clears his throat and strides out of the lab, following Sara without looking back.

Greg watches him go, tracing the curve of Nick’s shoulders through his oversized soft shirt before his gaze drops lower.

He hates to see Nick leave, but he _loves_ to watch him go.


End file.
